Shadow's Bane
by The Lady Wolfshead
Summary: FINALLY UPDATED! It is the start of Harry's sixth year, and things are not going well. His visions are increasing, his scar is hurting and he's having strange thoughts about...someone. And on top of that he receives news that burns his soul...Slash
1. 1

Warning: This *will* be slash. If that offends you, please read no further, and please leave no comments like "That's disgusting, etc," because they will just be laughed at, printed out and stuck up on the Idiot's Board. Thankyou.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything connected to the Harry Potter universe. That honour goes to the wonderful JK Rowling. This story is pure fiction and the product of a warped mind.

**Updated – Author's Note**

I started writing this fic about two days before OOTP was released. I have now decided to make this a post-OOTP fic and have amended the first two chapters accordingly. A new chapter will be following shortly. I am also merging this story with Hero in the Shadows (). Thank you to my two reviewers, wavey avey and Moon Fairy2. I hope you find the new, improved version to your liking. 

  
*  
  
Picture a nice, normal house, in a nice, normal street, in nice, normal Surrey on a nice, normal summer night. The last place on Earth that you would expect anything out of the ordinary. Imagine the streetlights bathing the neatly clipped and trimmed gardens in a pale orange glow. Imagine a cat slinking around the corner. Imagine Volvos, Toyotas, the odd Mercedes, nestling in their neat little drives.  
  
Imagine a scream shattering the calm night air.  
  
Harry Potter awoke with a start, and gazed about him, confused. He wasn't in his room. Where was he? He couldn't see. His scar hurt. His breathing slowly returned to normal and he realised he wasn't wearing his glasses. He gazed at the sulphuric orange glow above him and only then did he realise that he was outside.  
  
"POTTER!" Harry turned around and cringed to see his Uncle Vernon standing framed in the doorway of Number Four, clutching his dressing gown around him and bristling with fury.  
  
"What are you doing out there? Come back here this instant! This is the third time this week; if you can't control yourself then you'll be locked in the cupboard until Kingdom Come, with no meals!"  
  
Harry wandered back inside in a daze, letting his uncle's tirade wash over him. He'd heard it all before, and since the Dursleys had found out that his godfather was a convicted criminal, Harry had found that they very rarely meted out the punishments that they threatened anymore, for which he was grateful. Of course, he hadn't told them of Sirius' death – how could he? They didn't _know_ him! And it's not as if they'd have cared, anyway.   
  
Since the events of the previous year, there was a growing fear that Voldemort was amassing his strength for one final attack on Hogwarts. Harry's scar had been plaguing him a lot lately, and all too often he had found himself experiencing more and more visions. Even with the tips on Occlumency Dumbledore had given him, he couldn't shut them out. The last one had been particularly gruesome - the torture of a Ministry of Magic worker. On each occasion, Harry often awoke to find himself outside, and to say that he was troubled would be a colossal understatement.  
  
Harry lay down on his bed and gazed at his familiar wall chart, counting down the days in which he would return to Hogwarts. Two days to go. He had wanted to spend at least the last couple of weeks with the Weasleys, but Dumbledore had insisted that he stay with his relatives, as he would be safer there. Even Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place would have been better than this . . . 

No, it wouldn't. Grimmauld Place was too full of memories of Sirius; he never wanted to go back there ever again, it was the place Sirius had hated, the place where he'd been forced to stay behind closed doors while everyone else in the Order had more important things to do.   
  
Harry closed his eyes, forcing away memories of Sirius, and the images of the vision leapt into his mind. The wizard had resolutely refused to give any information and by the time that Voldemort had finished with him, he was a wreck, muttering only two words over and over - "Don't know." Harry shivered as he recalled that Voldemort had been after information about _him.  
  
Still, two days to go, and he would be back where he belonged, under the watchful gaze of Albus Dumbledore. The safest place in the world. Hogwarts. He briefly considered sending the Headmaster an owl informing him of the new vision, but decided that the information could wait for another couple of days.  
  
Harry rolled over, and completely failed to get back to sleep. He had the nagging suspicion that he didn't want to in any case. He had such horrible dreams . . .  
  
He shivered again, despite the fact that it was a stifling night, and pulled his blankets closer around him. He was terrified, more terrified than he'd ever let on. The most powerful Dark Lord for a hundred years was gaining in power all the time . . . and was after _him_. And when he wasn't experiencing visions, he was having horrid dreams about graveyards, and veils, and prophecies. And quite apart from anything else, he was having serious doubts about his sexuality; in fact, one of his most recurring dreams featured . . . _No_. Best not to go into that.  
  
On top of all that, he was the boy who was expected to defeat Voldemort once and for all, or be killed by him. He was barely sixteen, and carried the weight of the world on his shoulders._


	2. 2

Any comments, suggestions, praise, offers of money (English pounds please, no Euros, groats, buttons or plastic washers) and death threats all willingly accepted. 

And, yes, I did say **_slash_**. If the thought of two men together offends you, please hit the back button now. If you can't stand the heat, I'll set fire to you. _Shoo_! 

Standard disclaimers apply. 

*

Harry heaved his trunk onto the train, found an empty compartment, and sat down. He wished he had been able to see Ron and Hermione on the platform, but he reckoned they'd be in the prefects' carriage for a while yet, and just looked out of the window as the train started to pull out of the station, looking at the blurred faces waving off their loved ones on the platform. 

The door opened, and Neville walked in, stumbling slightly as he tripped over his shoelaces. 

"Hey, Harry, can I sit here?" he asked. 

"Sure. Had a good summer?" 

"Oh, it wasn't too bad, you know. How about you?" Harry shrugged; he wasn't about to discuss how much he missed Sirius with Neville, and he didn't really feel like explaining in lengthy detail how boring life with the Dursleys actually was. Although there had been one amusing incident when the police had called around late one night with a very drunken Dudley in tow; Vernon had claimed that the police were hassling his son because he was so 'gifted'. Neville laughed as Harry told this story, and Harry grinned, too. 

They chatted a bit about Neville's holiday, Harry grateful for the distraction and another line of thought from those that had cluttered his mind throughout the summer. As they chatted, his gaze left Neville's face and took in the line of his body. He'd lost a bit of weight over the summer, his belly was losing the roundness of youth and his skin was tanned from a holiday in the south of France. All in all, he was growing into a rather handsome young man . . . 

Wait a minute. Was he actually checking out _Neville_? Harry flushed red and stared out of the window, only half-listening to Neville's account of his holiday. 

" . . . And I met this really pretty witch and, well, she asked me to write to her but I don't know if I should . . ." Neville apparently hadn't noticed Harry's moment of slight crisis, as he had turned roughly the same shade as a beetroot and was staring out of the window, too. _So, he's straight then. Shame . . ._

"Well, do you like her?" 

"Well, yes, but . . . _you_ know what I'm like, Harry, I couldn't speak in front of her without looking like a complete prat and all . . ." 

"Look, she asked you to write, right? Then she must at least like you a little bit or she wouldn't have asked. Go on, write to her. You can borrow Hedwig, if you like." 

"Thanks, Harry," muttered Neville, grinning. 

The sound of raised voices could be heard in the corridor, and the compartment door swung open to reveal Harry and Hermione indulging in their usual constant bickering. 

"For heaven's sake, Ron, you can't do that! You're a prefect!" 

"Hermione, look, he's only going to get worse! I'm telling you, one more word and I'll show him that hex that Fred and George showed us over the summer . . ." 

"Ron, you're not allowed! You're supposed to be setting an example to the younger students, not teaching them any bad habits!" 

"_Ahem!" Harry coughed loudly, and his friends stopped bickering and stared at him, having just noticed him for the first time. _

"Harry!" Hermione squealed, and threw herself at him, hugging him tightly. "Oh, I missed you! It was really strange being at the Burrow without you! How was your summer?" she asked nervously. Harry shrugged. He wished people would stop pussy-footing around him; far from easing his pain, it made him tetchy. 

"Dire. Although my cousin Dudley got arrested for being drunk and disorderly, which was amusing. I wish Dumbledore had let me go to the Burrow, though." 

"I wish you were there too, mate. You should have seen some of the stuff Fred and George have developed, it was amazing! I wanted to bring some of it to school to show you, but . . ." Ron grimaced at Hermione and mimicked her voice "_I'm a prefect, I should know better_!" 

"Oh, shut up!" muttered Hermione, whacking his shoulder lightly. 

Harry settled back in his seat and let his friends' chattering wash over him as they talked about his summer, feeling slightly jealous that he'd had to spend all his time with the Dursleys. Molly Weasley had got him his school things, as he hadn't even been allowed to go to Diagon Alley, and he was grateful; but all the same, he would have liked to have escaped the Muggle world even for a day over the holidays. 

But Dumbledore reckoned he was in danger, and as such it would be safer for him to stay with his relatives. Harry knew he was being watched, too; Mrs Figg had popped over for a chat more times than was strictly necessary and he'd glimpsed people from the Order tailing him around, too, when he'd gone down to the local shops to get some groceries. He just wished that these people would tell him the details, instead of treating him like a bloody _child_. So what if Voldemort was after him? He'd been lucky so far, hadn't he? 

Then again, a voice whispered in his mind, maybe there was a limit even to his seemingly large reserve of luck. Might be wise not to push it, really, be a good boy and do as Dumbledore says, not get into trouble . . . However, a larger part of his mind was screaming loudly _Sod it! I've proved I'm more than capable, I'm not going to do what they say and I'm not going to sit around and do bugger all while they lead my life for me! _

He suspected that he had inherited that inner rebel from his father. 

The compartment door opened for the third time, and Harry's least favourite person at Hogwarts – with the possible exception of Snape – leaned casually on the doorframe, surveying the group with grey eyes that glinted maliciously. Harry stared. Somewhere along the line, Malfoy had got _hot!_ He was slim and toned from his Quidditch training, and his silver-blond hair was now chin-length, and was being blown across his face by the breeze coming from the open window. Harry shook his head to free himself from these treacherous thoughts. _This is _Malfoy._ I hate him, he's a scumbag just like his daddy. Stop thinking like that! _

"So, Potter," drawled Malfoy, a smirk playing on his lips. "I hear you stayed with the Muggles all summer. I expect that was almost as bad as staying at the Weasel's hovel." 

"Watch it, Malfoy!" snarled Ron, already on his feet, his hand straying towards his wand. "Bugger off!" 

"I don't feel like buggering off at this moment, thanks," smirked Malfoy, stepping forwards into the compartment. "And you can't use that thing on me. What would McGonagall say if she knew you were abusing your prefect duties? And what would your mother say? Dear me, we wouldn't want Mummy's darling to go upsetting her now, would we?" 

"Ron might be a prefect but I'm not and I have no qualms about hexing you from now 'til Kingdom Come," said Harry, who was also on his feet by now, Malfoy's words having cut through his reverie and shaken him into action. _Okay, so he may be good looking, but ugh! What a twat! _

"Now, now, Potter, that's not a friendly attitude. I only wanted a word with you." 

"Yeah, and here's two words for you. _Fuck_ and _off_!" 

"Watch your language, Potter, I don't want to have to land you in detention for something as petty as that." 

"We're not at school yet, Malfoy, you can't do anything." Hermione drew her wand and placed a hand on Ron's shoulder. He was clenching and unclenching his fists and growling softly. "But _we_ can, and unless you want your arse blasted to Io and back, I suggest you leave." Harry smiled softly, reflecting that this was the first time he had ever heard Hermione swear, and the word sounded odd spoken in her well-mannered accent. 

"Well, if that's going to be your reaction to a friendly visit, I think I will leave." Malfoy turned to go, and glanced back at Harry. "Oh, just one more thing, Potter. Stay out of my head, all right?" 

"I'll remember that if I ever get the urge to look around in there," muttered Harry, as Malfoy left. He sat back down, feeling slightly resentful yet oddly exhilarated from his encounter with Malfoy. What did he mean, _Stay out of my head_? He was a weird one, that Malfoy. Weird, twisted and the most annoying and arrogant little prick in the world . . .

. . . And so damn _sexy_ with it! 


	3. 3

Before long, the Hogwarts Express arrived at the station and the students clambered out of the train and into the Thestral-drawn carriages. Harry shivered as he looked at their dragon-like heads, and turned away. He caught sight of Hagrid, no longer looking as battered as he had been the previous year, and grinned and waved back as Hagrid waved to him. It was a heavy, humid evening and as Harry, Hermione, Ron and Neville clambered into their carriage the first low rumble of thunder sounded over the hills. 

Surprisingly, Neville chatted the most as they rode up to the school. Harry didn't feel like talking much, and Ron and Hermione kept shooting awkward glances in Harry's direction. He wished they wouldn't. He felt bad enough without his friends feeling as though they couldn't act normal around him. 

It was almost a relief to reach the Great Hall and sit amongst the other chattering students, ready for the Sorting and the feast. Almost. As they entered, the noise level dipped as people turned to stare at them, then doubled in intensity as people resumed their conversations. 

Harry glanced up at the High Table, almost interested to see who would be their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and was surprised, yet delighted, to see Remus Lupin sat near Dumbledore. Lupin caught Harry's eye and flashed him a quick smile, before resuming his conversation with Professor Sinistra. Harry smiled his first real smile for a long while, and turned to Ron and Hermione. 

"Have you seen who's here?" he asked, gesturing at the High Table. Ron and Hermione both glanced up and grinned. 

"Professor Lupin!" Hermione squealed. "Oh, it's so good to have him back!" 

"Hey, cool!" Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan had just sat themselves opposite Harry and had glanced up at the High Table too. "Might actually learn something this year then!" 

"Mind you even a banshee would have been better than that Umbridge," laughed Seamus. "Hey, Harry." 

"Hi," mumbled Harry, his eyes fixed on the High Table. 

"Listen, mate, me and me mam had a chat over the summer, and, well, she doesn't think you're a nutter anymore. She wanted me to apologise for her, so . . ." Seamus tailed off. Harry shrugged. 

"That's all right. It doesn't matter now anyway." 

"Nah. Guess not." 

"Hey, look, there's Hagrid!" announced Hermione, nudging Harry as Hagrid made his way over to the High Table. "The Sorting should be starting soon!" 

Sure enough the doors opened wide and Professor McGonagall entered, leading a line of scared looking first-years and placing the Sorting Hat reverentially in the middle of the Great Hall. 

Harry barely listened to the Sorting Hat's song and joined in half-heartedly with cheering the new Gryffindors. He was studying Lupin at the High Table. Lupin was making the effort to appear chatty and care-free to the other teachers, but Harry noticed that he was looking even more tired than usual, and his smiles never quite reached his eyes. _I need to talk to you, Harry thought. __You're the only one who knows how much losing Sirius means to me._

Harry began to relax as the feast got under way. He caught some of the first-years staring at him, and when they noticed he was looking they hurriedly looked down at their dinners. He turned to make an observation to Ron and Hermione, but they were indulging in their usual pastime of bickering like children. 

"Hermione, term hasn't even started yet! Just stop nagging me, I'm sick to dea- to my back teeth," Ron finished lamely, casting a worried glance at Harry, who rolled his eyes. 

"Stop it, you two!" he exclaimed. 

"Stop what?" asked Hermione, with a slight frown on her face. 

"Ever since we got on the train this morning you've been frightened of saying anything in case you upset me! And don't give me that," he added, as Hermione opened her mouth to protest. "I've noticed you doing it! About what happened last year, I'm . . . well, I'm not exactly fine with it, but I don't need protecting, ok?" 

"Harry, we just . . . we don't want to upset you," began Ron. 

"Well you're doing a good job then!" spat Harry, putting down his knife and fork. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment Dumbledore stood up. Harry turned away from his friends and looked up at the Headmaster. He looked older than Harry remembered, but he surveyed his students with a calming smile, and for the first time since the end of last year Harry felt safe. _He's the only one Voldemort ever feared. He won't let anything happen to us. _

"Good evening, and welcome to Hogwarts for another year. As you will undoubtedly be aware, the Ministry for Magic has now acknowledged the return of Lord Voldemort. This year will undoubtedly be a lot more difficult than most, and certain changes have had to be made in order to ensure the safety of everybody in the castle. 

"Firstly, there will be no Quidditch this year. This . . ." Dumbledore fell silent amongst the buzz of angry chattering that followed his words, and raised his hands for silence. Slowly the Hall quietened. "As I was saying, this is because a lot of you will have your hands full with other matters this year, and certain members of the Ministry feel that it would be too dangerous for students out on the pitch. Secondly, you are all expected to be in your House common rooms by dusk. Anyone caught wandering the castle without permission after dark will be dealt with accordingly. Thirdly, I will ask all students in fifth year and above to stay behind this evening, as there is something I wish to ask of you. Prefects in those years should lead the first-years to their common rooms as usual and report straight back to me. 

"I know some of you have suffered losses at the hands of Voldemort and his supporters over the Summer -" Harry caught the Headmaster's eye then and suddenly found a lump rising in his throat – "and I or your Heads of House will always be willing to talk, should you feel the need. 

"First years should note that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds. Certain older students may benefit from a reminder of this rule. Mr Filch has asked me to remind students that magic is not allowed in the corridors, and that the list of prohibited items now includes Skiving Snackboxes and Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs. The full list is pinned to his office door, should anybody wish to read it, and now comprises of six hundred and thirty two items. 

"And finally, I am delighted to welcome back Professor Lupin, who will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts this year." Lupin smiled as the student population who had witnessed his previous term in the position cheered wildly. Harry clapped so loudly that his hands tingled, his feelings of resentment towards his friends vanishing. He wished that he had Quidditch to take his mind off things, but he had a feeling that he would be so busy this year that he would not have time for it. 

The noise level inside the Hall increased, and Harry guessed that Dumbledore had dismissed the school. He turned back to Ron and Hermione. Ron was mouthing off about the fact that Quidditch had been cancelled this year, but Harry thought he sounded secretly relieved; at least he wouldn't be making a prat of himself in front of the Slytherins again. 

Harry noticed that most of the Slytherins were leaving, regardless of the Headmaster's request. He didn't particularly care; most of their parents were chummy with Lord Voldemort, and he'd rather not have their spies reporting Dumbledore's movements to the enemy. He didn't notice that a certain someone had not left with the other Slytherins, and was watching him closely.

After a few minutes the prefects reappeared, and Dumbledore walked down from the High Table. 

"Thank you all for coming. Now to business. I am sure many of you remember the secret DA meetings last year. I would like these meetings to continue in an official capacity, as there is a very real danger that Voldemort may attempt to seize the school sooner or later. 

"The meetings will be taking place twice a week in the Room of Requirement. I will be taking a handful of these meetings personally, as will Professors McGonagall, Snape and Lupin. However, the vast majority of meetings will be left up to you. I now have a favour to ask one of you." Dumbledore turned to Harry and fixed him with the piercing gaze that Harry knew only too well. "Mr Potter, I understand you were a hit with your fellows last year. Would you be willing to teach them again?" 

A silence fell that was briefly broken by someone whispering "Yeah, he'd be excellent!" Harry could feel everyone's eyes on him. His mind raced. Last year it had seemed almost like a joke, a way of thwarting Umbridge, but now, with open war almost certainly being declared . . . could he handle the responsibility? 

_Yes_, he thought vehemently. _I'll do anything to stop those bastards who killed Sirius!_

"I will, Professor," he stated confidently. The students clapped, Ginny Weasley led the cheering, and Dumbledore smiled. 

"Thank you, Mr Potter. Our first meeting will be on Tuesday evening at seven p.m. I trust to see you all there. Mr Potter, I would like to see you in my office tomorrow at lunchtime. Until then." Dumbledore swept out of the room, and the students, chattering eagerly, rose to leave. 

Harry stood up and walked back up to Gryffindor Tower with Ron, Hermione, Neville and Ginny, determination coursing through him, replacing the hopeless, bitter feeling that he had felt since the incident at the Department of Mysteries. He sank into an armchair by the fire, and smiled at his friends, who were chatting eagerly at the reinstatement of the DA, subconsciously planning his first lesson. 

He was home. 


	4. 4

Thanks to Moon Fairy2 and V-Gin. Your encouragement is all I need to keep this baby going. That and, of course, I just can't resist the lure of good old angsty slash. Oh, and I'm not above receiving bribes either, so bribe away! ^_^

Additional disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of the Sipstrassi stones mentioned here. Those belong to one of the finest heroic fantasy writers that walk this planet, David Gemmell. 

*

Harry groaned as he received his timetable at breakfast the next morning. Double Potions, Transfiguration, Remedial Potions, Charms and, at the end of a crowded day, the blessed relief of a Study Period. Students were meant to use those periods for doing research in the library, but, especially in the Sixth Year, they mostly used it for relaxing in the common room, and Harry could see why. Three hours of Snape on a Monday morning? What on Earth could he have done to deserve that? 

Having not quite achieved the mark he'd needed for Potions in his OWL, Snape had only agreed to take Harry in his NEWT class if Harry agreed to extra lessons twice a week to bring his potion-making up to scratch. Normally Harry would have refused, but ever since the events at the Department of Mysteries his desire to become an Auror burned stronger than ever. 

And he had that meeting with Dumbledore at lunchtime. Harry seriously doubted that he would get five minutes to himself before that last lesson. 

"What have you got, mate?" asked Ron, peering down at Harry's timetable, and grimacing. "You must have really upset someone." 

"Don't I know it," mumbled Harry. Ron hadn't achieved the marks required to take the same subjects as Harry so he had turned his attentions on Care of Magical Creatures, reasoning that if nothing else presented itself he could always go and help Charlie with the dragons. Although they still had Defence Against The Dark Arts, Charms and Transfiguration together, Harry fervently wished that either Ron or Hermione were taking Potions with him. 

Harry finished his breakfast, wished his friends goodbye, and made his way down into the dungeons. Dean Thomas joined him and they stood with their backs to the wall while they waited for the others to arrive. Harry caught sight of Malfoy at the other end of the corridor and forced himself to look down at the flagstones, an unpleasant feeling squirming in his stomach. The door opened and he quickly moved into the room, taking a seat in the corner and forcing himself to concentrate on Snape at the front of the classroom. 

"Good morning, and welcome to the start of the most important phase of your education," began Snape in his customary silky whisper. "The skills you will learn in these next two years will be instrumental in whichever careers you choose after Hogwarts. Most of you have received quite excellent marks in your OWL examinations, and I commend you for it. A few however," Snape's eyes met Harry's, a sniggering rose from the Slytherins, and Harry found himself gritting his teeth, "are here on my sufferance. I will warn you now that if you do not perform up to my standards, I shall remove you from my class. Today we will be making an Invisibility Draught. The instructions, as usual, are on the board. You have ninety minutes. Start!" 

Harry read each line of instructions carefully, determined to do well in Snape's class. If he performed well, he reasoned, then he would be able to drop the extra lessons. After some work, he glanced down at his potion. It was the right consistently, but the colour – which should have been a shimmering silver – was more a dull, slate grey. He tensed as Snape passed by and closed his ears to the professor's withering comments, carefully adding a pinch of powdered unicorn horn. The mixture began bubbling ominously, and Harry, peering through the smoke at the instructions, cursed; he had forgotten to take the potion off the fire first. He quickly removed the cauldron, wishing he had Hermione to help him, and added a tiny speck of moonstone. The potion began to settle and Harry relaxed – quite the wrong move, as the potion suddenly burst out of the cauldron, splashing him and a couple of Slytherins. 

"Dear me, Potter, it seems as though I was mistaken in thinking you would prove to be adequate in my classes. No matter, we shall have plenty of opportunity to rectify your abysmal skills this coming year. All who have been splashed, please come to the front for the antidote." 

Harry moved to the front of the class, slightly disconcerted by the fact that his body where the potion had splashed him seemed to be flickering in and out of focus. He glared at Snape's malicious sneer as he received his antidote. And to go through all this again in just a couple of hours? Harry couldn't wait for the day to end. 

Professor McGonagall also started the lesson with the standard lecture on how important the next two years would be on their careers, before going on to explain about Sipstrassi, small golden stones with a certain amount of magic contained in them that could be used to Transfigure anything, and also aided rejuvenation of ruined tissue. They were remnants of an age before the Founders of Hogwarts, before even the great Merlin, when the sorcerer-king Pendarric had ruled. Very few of these stones were left, and while in their pure form they were able to be used for healing and other good works, they also had their dark side. McGonagall then produced a very small stone, that appeared to be black with small veins of gold, and Transfigured her desk into a bunch of flowers and back. Harry thought that the black in the stone seemed to swell after the spell. 

They spent the remainder of the lesson taking notes on the Sipstrassi and their dark counterparts, the Bloodstones. At the end of the lesson Harry crammed his things into his school bag, promised Ron that he would see him soon at lunch and, ignoring the growls of hunger coming from his stomach, made his way to Dumbledore's office. 

Dumbledore was waiting for him at the stone gargoyle entrance. He flashed Harry a warm smile, and sighed. 

"Thank you for coming, Harry. I have something important to discuss with you and it will not be easy." Dumbledore led the way into his office and Harry followed silently, a knot of apprehension forming in his stomach after hearing those words. Dumbledore sat down behind his desk and surveyed Harry above steepled fingers. 

"Please sit down." Harry did so, trying his best not to ignore the squirming feeling in his stomach. Dumbledore was giving him such a piercing gaze, it was difficult not to feel as though there was something wrong.

"I know you have had a difficult summer after what happened last year, and it is partly about that that I wanted to talk about. I know this will come as a bit of a shock, and believe me I wish you didn't have to hear this." 

"Is it about Sirius?" demanded Harry. The knot in his stomach seemed to tighten and he felt as though he could hardly breathe. 

"Stay calm, Harry. I will explain as best I can." Dumbledore continued to stare at Harry over the tops of his fingers, and sighed heavily. 

"Some interesting information has recently come to light with regards to the veil in the Department of Mysteries. We have long known that it is a portal to the Spirit World; however, it transpires that the veil has another, more sinister secret. It's function is to separate the soul from the body, leaving the soul to wander the Netherworld. However, sometimes the process can be . . . tampered with. It is not merely a gateway into the Spirit World but a gateway into a host of other worlds." 

"But what's that got to do with Sirius?" demanded Harry impatiently. Dumbledore's old, sad eyes met Harry's bright, determined ones, and Harry was once again struck by how old and tired Dumbledore looked. When he next spoke, the old man's voice was tinged with sorrow. 

"Sirius Black is not dead." 


	5. 5

A big shout out to Inuyasha-lover601, Suga hi and Moon Fairy2. I know this is not the most highly-reviewed of stories but the few comments I do get make all the effort and abuse my poor computer gets worthwhile ^_^ I thank you and reward your kindness with another chapter! And many more to come!

Yet another additional disclaimer: The Vyre, mentioned briefly in this chapter and elsewhere later on in the story, are also not my creation. I borrowed them from David Gemmell. Hope he doesn't mind.  

*

Harry stared at the Headmaster, his mind reeling with the shock. He stared at the floor, his emotions confused. The news that his godfather was still alive had to be good and he wanted to shout with joy, but the sombre look on Dumbledore's face quelled the emotion. What if Sirius had been taken and tortured? And why had he not been informed of this before? Anger rose within him and he glared at the old man sat before him. 

"Not dead? But how? And why wasn't I told before?" 

"I was not sure of the facts until very recently, and I felt that you would rather hear the news from me face-to-face rather than written in a letter. It is a long story and I ask you to be patient with me, and not to interrupt until I have reached the end." Harry nodded, and Dumbledore went on.  

"As you are well aware, Sirius came from a long line of pure-blood wizards, bearing all the hallmarks of those who believed themselves to be better than others because of their heritage. It is because of his name, and because of his family's beliefs, that in a way spared him when he fell through the veil. 

"It would appear that, a few centuries ago, an ancient spell was cast over the House of Black. Such was their arrogance that one Pluto Black, possibly the most powerful wizard of the line, felt that they should never die. He found a spell that would ensure that the line would endure long after the last heir should have passed on, and modified it. Such was his faith in the purity of blood that his intention was that he and his family would form an army and one day return to this world to purge all of what he called 'tainted blood'. Sirius' death completed the spell, and he was reunited with his family. It is believed that the Blacks are currently residing in the world of the Vyre, beyond the shade of the underworld." 

Harry sat stunned by this information. He tried to get his head around it all, and found it impossible. He drew a slow, shuddering breath, trying to think of something to say and finding nothing, switching his gaze to Dumbledore's carpet.  

"That is not the worst of it," said Dumbledore softly. Harry's head snapped up, his eyes bright and fearful. "Sirius is no longer the man you knew. Sirius now sits beside his family with honour and shares their belief that purebloods are superior to others." 

"But Sirius hated his family!" croaked Harry, finding his voice at last. "Sirius went against everything they stood for, they disowned him!" 

"The life he now leads has . . . altered his perceptions somewhat," replied Dumbledore. "I cannot even begin to explain how because even I do not know. And yet, even that is not the worst of it." Dumbledore stood and moved beside Harry, his hand gripping Harry's shoulder so tightly that Harry nearly cried out in pain. "They have allied themselves to Voldemort." 

Harry gasped then, his throat tightening. He looked up at Dumbledore; the old man's eyes were fixed on the window and bright with unshed tears. "I don't know if you recall, but Wormtail was not among those Death Eaters gathered at the Department of Mysteries that day. Instead he was in the land of the Vyre, convincing the Blacks of the benefits of joining his master. Voldemort's greatest trick is setting us against those we love," he added, apparently to himself, and released Harry's shoulder, sitting himself back down in his chair. 

"I know this will be hard for you, Harry. It will be hard for us all. It may seem cruel to tell you, especially so soon, but then I have discovered, at great cost, the price of keeping information to myself. You had to know." Harry nodded and rose from his chair, gripping the arms tightly to steady legs that suddenly felt like jelly. 

"Thank you . . . for telling me," he forced out through the lump that had formed in his throat. 

"Remember, I am always here if you need me." Harry nodded again and moved to the door, his legs now feeling as though they were made of lead. 

The rest of the day passed in a daze. He barely heard Snape's withering scorn as he managed to mess up his second potion of the day, he was given extra Charms homework and he was vaguely aware of Ron and Hermione asking him what the matter was occasionally. He didn't answer them. He couldn't. How could he tell them what Dumbledore had told him? He himself couldn't believe it, _wouldn't_ believe it. Sirius had always been excessively vocal in his disdain of his family. He'd never have joined them . . . 

He ignored Hermione's attempts to lure him into conversation as they sat in the Gryffindor common room before dinner, staring moodily into space and trying to make sense of what he had heard in Dumbledore's office. It made his head ache. 

He couldn't face going to dinner with the rest of the school, his appetite having deserted him completely, and mumbled something to Hermione about needing a rest. He withdrew to his dormitory and lay sprawled on the bed, gazing up at the canopy above his head. He rubbed his scar; it was not hurting, not at the moment, but the action was an instinctive one and it was almost soothing. 

Almost . . . 

He had once written to Sirius when his scar hurt in the middle of the night, prompting Sirius to return to Britain from wherever he was hiding. Harry had been terrified then of losing him to the Dementors or the Ministry of Magic, but in the end it was his family that had claimed him and instead of destroying him they had made him someone they could be proud of. Someone that was the complete opposite of the person he knew and loved. 

The knowledge burned him almost as badly as the fact that he could do nothing to help his godfather. He rose from his bed, unable to rest and gripped with a need to keep moving. He walked down through the now deserted common room, deliberately angling away from the Great Hall, anxious not to bump into anyone who would ask questions. 

Almost unconsciously his footsteps took him to the seventh floor, and the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Harry stopped and looked at the door, hesitating only for a moment. _Somewhere no-one could find him, somewhere he could be alone with his thoughts_ . . . He turned the handle and went in. 

The room had changed from it's last appearance as the DA's headquarters. Now it was a large, homely room with a wide bed towards the back and a couple of large armchairs in front of a roaring fire. Portraits adorned the walls and the glow of the fire and the oil lamps guttering on the walls gave the place a warm orange glow. Harry sat down on the large sheepskin rug in front of the fire and stared into the flames until his eyes hurt, willing Sirius' head to appear and tell him it was all one huge mistake. 

There was a soft sound behind him and he turned, blinking until the purple spots in front of his eyes faded. Draco Malfoy was sat in one of the armchairs, one leg casually draped over the arms. The firelight was glinting off his hair and his eyes in a way that softened his features and made him seem even more beautiful. 

But Harry had no room in his head for lustful thoughts. "What do you want, Malfoy?" he snapped, anger rising at this intrusion. _Of all the people,_ he thought angrily, _why did it have to be this bastard?_

"Can't a man sit in front of a fire in peace?" asked Malfoy softly, wearing his familiar sneer. "Or is famous Harry Potter so far removed from mortal men that he is unable to share his fire?" 

"Oh, he is able to share his fire all right, but not with scum like you!" growled Harry, scrambling to his feet. 

"Now, Potter, that's no way to behave. I've not come here for a fight." 

"Why did you come here then? Come to make fun of me? Come to gloat that your daddy and his friends have succeeded in ruining my life?" Harry was mere inches away from Malfoy's chair now and towered over the young man still seated. A flicker of emotion crossed Malfoy's face, a brief, haunted, sorrowful look. Harry started, but the next moment the cool mask had slid back into place and Malfoy was also on his feet, his nose almost touching Harry's. Harry shivered as he glared into Malfoy's eyes. There was something almost unreadable there, as if he was trying to conceal his feelings and not quite succeeding. 

"You know, Potter," spat Malfoy, his voice cracking with barely suppressed anger, "I think if you spent a bit less time feeling sorry for yourself you'll realise what's going on around you. You're not the only person who lost someone this summer." 

"Oh yeah, dear old daddy banged up in Azkaban. Well it's not like you'll never see him again, is it? You said it yourself, he's with his mates, they'll break out in no time." Malfoy paled and his fingers twitched, as if he was going for his wand. He let out a long breath and slowly backed away to the door. He paused with his hand on the handle. 

"Well I've been here for most of the afternoon," he stated conversationally. "And when you showed up I felt like talking to you. I thought if anyone would understand, _you _would. Seems I was wrong, hey?" Malfoy shut the door behind him with a quiet click that nevertheless echoed around the room, leaving Harry to his own confused thoughts. 


	6. 6

Oh dear. It's been a while since I've updated this one and all. Must rectify that immediately. 

Shout out to rockchik4evr, V-Gin, Michelle and Moon Fairy2. I love you, and thank you for sticking with this story. 

*

Harry woke with a yell and stared at the hangings above him. It took him a few moments to realise that he was in his old four-poster at Hogwarts and not staring at the veil in the Department of Mysteries. He tried to remember the nightmare he'd been having, but the images faded and he could hardly remember a thing. He rose from the bed as his breathing returned to normal and moved to the basin to get a drink of water. 

"Alright mate?" mumbled Ron from his bed. 

"Yeah. Just a dream. Nothing to worry about." Ron grunted and turned over, and within seconds his snores filled the room. Harry replaced his mug and went back to his bed, curling up on top of the covers. 

The one image that lingered from his dream was one of Sirius and Voldemort, laughing as they raised their wands to perform a deadly curse together. Sirius allied with Voldemort. How could it have happened? Sirius was always dead set against anything to do with the Dark side – Harry remembered with a shiver the cold fury emanating from him on that night in the Shrieking Shack when Pettigrew had insinuated that he was Voldemort's spy. No. They must have tricked him, somehow, must have cursed him . . . He'd never have gone to them willingly.  

Harry's eyes fell on a photo by his bedside, taken last Christmas, of him and Sirius sat together in front of a huge roasted turkey. They were both wearing paper hats and Sirius was brandishing the carving knife with a wicked grin and a glint in his eye. Tears welled in Harry's eyes and he turned onto his stomach, sobbing silently into his pillow. 

*

_"Ah, there you are dear boy! So good to have you with us at last!" He opened his eyes and experienced a brief moment of confusion. The last thing he remembered was . . . was what? A battle . . . there had been a battle somewhere . . . lots of light . . . Harry? Who was Harry? He gave up trying to remember, and fixed his eyes on the man striding towards him. He looked familiar – a handsome face framed by long, dark hair, intelligent, deep-set eyes that were twinkling merrily. _

_"I am Pluto. I am here to welcome you to our lands. I am sure you'll find it more than pleasant." _

_"Where is this place? How did I come here? I don't remember anything!" _

_"You will, in time. Trust me." Pluto handed him a drink and he drank deeply, not realising how thirsty he was. It was cool and refreshing, and as he handed the goblet back he was surprised to find strength rushing to his wasted limbs.  _

_"What is it?" Pluto smiled. _

_"The secret of immortality. Come with me, my son. There is much you need to know." _

* 

"You alright mate? You look terrible." Harry shrugged. He hadn't told Ron and Hermione what Dumbledore had told him, having gone straight up to bed since leaving the Room of Requirement. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to tell them. It was just too incomprehensible. Surely it was all a big joke? 

"Are you sure you're all right? You're very pale." Harry shrugged again, staring down at his bowl of cereal. He was vaguely aware of Ron and Hermione staring at him. He didn't want them to stare at him. He wanted to disappear and be alone with his thoughts. He didn't want to think about anything. He wanted to be left alone. He wanted Sirius back. This bowl of cereal was really _very_ interesting . . . 

"Ouch!" Harry looked up as he received a sharp nip on the finger from Hedwig, who had bought him a letter. He stroked her absently as he unfolded the piece of parchment. 

_Harry – _

_I'm sorry I haven't had the chance to speak with you yet. Will you be able to stay after the lesson this afternoon? It's important. _

_Lupin. _

Harry smiled as he screwed up the parchment, and looked up to the High Table. Lupin was looking tired and ill, and was bent studiously over his breakfast. He glanced up, caught Harry's eye and sent him a swift, sad smile. Harry nodded and returned his attention to his own breakfast. It would be so good to talk to someone who really understood what losing Sirius meant . . . 

"Are you sure you're all right, Harry?" asked Hermione as they left the Charms classroom later that day. "You've been acting a bit odd today. What's the matter?" 

"What makes you think anything's the matter?" countered Harry. 

"Come off it, mate!" huffed Ron. "You bugger off to see Dumbledore last night and ever since you got back you've refused to speak to us. What did he say?" Harry half wanted to tell them about Sirius, half wanted them to leave him alone. But what he did know for sure was that he couldn't tell them anything until he'd talked to Lupin. 

"I'll tell you later," he muttered as they approached the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. He turned to go in the door and collided with someone coming the other way, knocking them flying. Harry apologised automatically and held out a hand to help them up. His stomach flipped when he saw that that person was Malfoy. Malfoy swore loudly and pushed himself back onto his knees, gathering his books and parchment to him. He glared up at Harry, his mouth twisting itself into its familiar sneer. 

"I don't need your help, Potter," he muttered, scrambling up and striding off. Harry stared after him, his stomach still squirming. He was still confused about their chance meeting last night, and even more confused at the feelings Malfoy managed to generate. 

"Ignore him, he's a git," mumbled Ron, bundling Harry into the classroom. 

Professor Lupin was standing at the front of the classroom, leafing through a book and mumbling quietly to himself. He looked up as the class shuffled in and smiled. 

"Good afternoon! It's good to see you all again. Now I'm sorry but I'm going to have to ask you to put your wands away please – I know it's boring, but the sooner we get through this the sooner we can get onto the practical stuff, ok?

"Now I understand that Professor McGonagall taught you the basics about the Sipstrassi stones yesterday, right? And she's asked me to go through the Bloodstones with you in greater detail. It means you'll have to put up with me yakking on for most of the lesson but I'll whiz through it as quick as I can." 

Harry only half-listened to Lupin's lecture, scribbling the occasional note in between doodling on his parchment. He was busy staring at the dust motes in the light when he heard some words that dragged him back to reality. 

_"Prolonged exposure to and use of a Bloodstone will subtly alter the user's character. They will at first feel obsessive about their own personal Stone, some never letting it out of their sight even at night. Then, as they become addicted to the rejuvenating properties of the Stone, they will need to replenish it more and more as they use up its power in curing trifling little sniffles and aches. And as they use it more and more – as they will, for immortality is an extremely powerful influence over humans – they draw something of the essence of the Bloodstone inside themselves. All essence of kindness, goodness, compassion – everything that makes us human – is drawn out and replaced with a longing for blood, sacrifice and domination. This is what happened to the Sorcerer-king Pendarric, consuming him until he almost destroyed the world . . ." _

Changed. Bloodstones change people. Sirius has changed. Does that mean he has a Bloodstone? Thoughts like these chased themselves through Harry's mind, and he was so absorbed that he hadn't realised the lesson had ended until he felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up into the face of Lupin. 

Now that the rest of the class had gone, Lupin looked nowhere near as cheerful as he had seemed when taking the class. His face seemed even more lined, the grey in his hair was ever more prominent, and his eyes were a deep brown well of sadness. 

"Harry . . ." he muttered, tightening his grip on Harry's shoulder. As Harry looked into the worn, lined face of Sirius' best friend he felt something give inside of him, and all the feelings that he had kept from his friends over the last twenty four hours came pouring out as he collapsed into tears in Lupin's embrace.   _  _


	7. 7

It's been a while since I updated and I cannot apologise enough for leaving you all hanging. I can only say that my private life has been rather tense of late and I have had neither the time nor the inclination to write. Hopefully, that's all in the past now, and I should be able to update more frequently. 

Thank you to those who reviewed Part 6 – DavidCamp, Aki, Rayne-Jelly, V-Gin, MoonFairy2 and Enemy of the Lone One. I hope you find this chapter adequate, considering the amount of time it's taken to get here. Sorry it's so short, but more chapters should follow fairly swiftly. 

*

Harry pulled away from Lupin and wiped his eyes, conscious of the fact that Lupin had tears in his eyes too. 

"I take it you've heard?" asked Lupin absently. Harry nodded. 

"Yeah. I just. . . I can't believe it. Sirius always hated his family." Harry shrugged. 

"I know." Lupin sighed and sat himself on the edge of a desk. "This is the third time I've lost him now and, damn it, it's not getting any easier. Thinking him a traitor was bad enough. Thinking him dead was worse. And now this. . ." Lupin trailed off and turned his gaze out of the window. "You don't make many friends, being a werewolf, and I was fortunate enough to make three of the greatest friends anyone could have. And now Peter's a traitor, James is dead, and Sirius. . . isn't Sirius anymore," he finished lamely. He sighed. "I'm sorry, Harry." 

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," Harry insisted, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. 

"Yeah, well, you don't want to hear me yakking on about my worries, I'm sure." He turned his sad brown gaze onto Harry. "Anything you want to talk about?" 

"Yeah, loads, but. . ." Harry shrugged, momentarily lost for words, then it all came pouring out. How lost he'd felt since Sirius had fallen through the veil. How he hated his friends constantly treating him as though he were made of glass. How scared he was about the coming war. 

". . . And on top of that I'm the one who's supposed to defeat Voldemort once and for all. Why does it have to be me? Why couldn't it be someone else for a change? I'm sick and tired of saving the bloody world." Harry sighed and rubbed his scar thoughtfully. It was twingeing again, but that was nothing new. "Sorry." 

"Don't apologise." Lupin flashed him a sad smile. "It needed to be said." 

"Damn right it did," muttered Harry. He smiled at his Professor. "Thanks." 

"Any time. If you want to talk, you know where my office is." Harry nodded. 

"If you, you know, want to talk about Sirius, or anything, owl me, ok?" Lupin nodded and smiled. 

"Yeah, thanks. Now I want to ask you a favour, Harry. It could potentially be dangerous, so I'll understand completely if you refuse." 

"What is it?" Harry asked curiously. 

"You may have guessed that the emphasis McGonagall and I have been putting on Bloodstones have something to do with Sirius." 

"You think he's got a Bloodstone?" 

"He might, at least that's what I'm hoping. I hear you're taking the DA again. I'd like you to use the time to do some research for me. Find out what Bloodstones can do, and help me find a way to neutralise their effect. For all we know, Voldemort might get his hands on one, and the more we know about them the better prepared we can be. What I told you today is only what we know from historical accounts, and they're not complete, not by a long shot. And then. . . this is the dangerous part. . ." Lupin trailed off and his eyes were glinting strangely. "Once we've got a counter for the Bloodstone, I want you to help me find Sirius." 

"You what?" Harry shook his head, hardly daring to believe his ears. 

"Of course, if you don't want to. . ." 

"I'm not saying I don't want to," Harry said quickly, "I just think you're mad. He's in a whole other world, how the hell are we going to find which one?" Lupin shrugged, and began pacing the room. 

"I don't know, Harry. That's why I want your help. It may be a long shot, it may be impossible, he may be so far gone that it'll be impossible to get him back but. . . I'll be damned if I lose my best friend for a third time and not even try to get him back. I'm not going to sit back and let them take him from me!" Lupin growled and thumped the wall. Harry jumped, slightly shocked at the anger emanating from his Professor. The pain shooting through his hand must have had a soothing effect, as Lupin sat back down and began massaging his knuckles. "Sorry saw that, Harry. But I'm so angry, I've got to do _something_." 

"I know how you feel," said Harry fervently. "I want to help. I can't sit around and do nothing." 

"I know you can't. You're just like your father in that respect." Lupin clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Thank you." Harry smiled at Lupin and gave him a swift, awkward hug that made the older man smile, too. "I should be getting on, if I were you. Your friends will be worrying."

"See you tomorrow," said Harry softly, and left the room. He was vaguely aware that he had homework to deal with, and Ron and Hermione would be wondering where he was, but that could wait for now. He hurried as fast as he could to the Room of Requirement, as he felt sure that he would find what he was looking for there. 

He was right. A huge bookcase lined one wall. Harry picked up the nearest one; it was titled _Bloodstones; A History of the Dark Side of the Sipstrassi._ He settled down into an armchair by the fire and began to read. 


	8. 8

Thanks this week go to Jamie, SheWolfe7, sak, Falafel and V-Gin. I'm glad you like this fic, stick with it, there's still a long way to go! Hopefully new chapters should be arriving more frequently as of now. 

*__

_His room was beautiful, like the rest of the house. He strode to the window, his feet slipping slightly on the marble floor, and pulled back the rich, red, velvet curtains. Sunlight flooded the room, highlighting the ornately carved furniture, and one glance out of the window revealed gardens that were just as stunning as the rest of the house. _

_A serving girl entered, bowing before him, and offering him another glass of the wonderful nectar he had tasted the previous night. He thanked the serving girl, studying the curves of her body that were all too evident beneath her simple, white tunic, and briefly considered asking her to stay. _

_An owl appeared at the window, a note attached to its leg. He took the note and thanked the owl, which ruffled its feathers and fluttered off again. The note read, _

Your presence is requested in the drawing room in ten minutes. My manservant will show you the way.

Pluto.

_He smiled, crumpled up the note, and finished his drink. He took one deep breath of the glorious, fresh spring air before hurriedly dressing. He was going to enjoy it here, he was sure of it. _

_*_

It was a few weeks later. Most of Harry's classes were passing in a daze and, when he wasn't taking the DA classes or rushing through his homework, he found himself in the Room of Requirement with Ron and Hermione, looking up the various properties of the Bloodstones. He had been loath to involve them, at first, but they had cornered him after one Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson to find out what the hell was going on and he, somewhat reluctantly, told them. 

The reason he'd been unwilling to involve them at first was that he felt that this was something he had to do himself but, as time wore on, he was grateful for their help – there was a lot of research to do, and they had only covered a miniscule amount of ground. 

"There's nothing new in this one," muttered Ron, throwing the book down irritably and rubbing his eyes. 

"This one's full of rubbish," moaned Hermione, also closing her book. She yawned, got up and stretched. "I say we call it a night. We're all tired, and we've still got that essay to do for Lupin." 

"It's not due in until Halloween, Hermione!" groaned Ron. 

"And that's next week," she reminded him. "Come on. You too, Harry," she ordered. Ron rolled his eyes. It was widely acknowledged that Hermione would some day make a great teacher, as no student would be able to resist her constant nagging – not that anyone repeated this within earshot, of course. 

"Hang on," Harry muttered. "I've found something interesting. I'll catch you up in a minute." 

"Last time you said that you stayed up here half the night and missed your Occlumency class!" 

"I promise I'll be back before midnight, Hermione," Harry said, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Go on, I'll meet you in the common room once I've finished this." He pulled a piece of parchment and a quill out of his bag, and began to take notes. 

"If only you approached your homework with the same enthusiasm, you might one day catch up with me," sighed Hermione, shaking her head. "Come on, Ron, we know when we're not wanted." Ron and Hermione left the room, the door clicking shut softly behind them. 

Harry continued to scribble notes for a few moments then, without looking up, said, "It's ok. You can come out now." There was a movement, and then Draco Malfoy was sat in the chair opposite him, his blond hair glowing in the firelight, folding up an invisibility cloak. 

"How did you know I was here?" he asked softly. Harry smiled, still not looking up from his book. 

"You sneezed when Ron dropped his book. What do you want, Malfoy?" Malfoy shrugged. 

"You've been spending a lot of time up here lately. I wanted to know why." 

"So you've been following me now?" Harry snorted. "Tell me, why is what I do in my spare time so interesting? Or have you been sent to spy on me?" 

"I'm not spying. I have no reason to." 

"No reason?" Harry laughed. "Come off it, Malfoy, your daddy's chummy with Voldemort. I bet he'd give anything to know what I'm up to since we're sworn enemies and all." Malfoy shrugged again, and turned his gaze towards the flames. 

"Well, a man's got to have somewhere where he can be by himself, hasn't he? And he can't do that if that place is continually crowded. I just wanted to know why I couldn't get some peace." 

"So I need your permission to use this room now?" Harry laughed. "Like that's going to happen. I don't need anything from you, Malfoy." He gathered up his book, quill and parchment and made to leave. 

"Wait!" pleaded Malfoy. Harry paused, one hand on the door handle, and raised one eyebrow questioningly. 

"I'm giving you some peace. That's what you want, isn't it?" 

"It's rare for a Potter to give a Malfoy anything he wants," Malfoy muttered, reaching out and taking one of the books from the shelves. "Sipstrassi? Doing some extra work for Lupin? Bit keen, aren't you?" he sneered. 

"Whatever. I'm in no mood to fight with you." Harry turned his back on the blond boy again.  

"I could help you," whispered Malfoy. Harry rounded on him again, advancing towards Malfoy's chair. 

"I don't need your help, Malfoy!" he hissed. "I don't want anything to do with anyone who's the spawn of one of Voldemort's trusted Death Eaters. Did Daddy put you up to this?" 

"You leave my father out of this, Potter!" Malfoy spat. His normally pale face was ghostly white, and his eyes were glinting dangerously. 

"Or you'll what?" growled Harry, his face mere inches away from Malfoy's. "I'm not afraid of you or any of your bastard family." Malfoy glared at him and took a long, deep breath. 

"Be careful what you say Potter. I'm not known for my patience." Harry laughed. 

"Like father, like son. Wonder how he's enjoying Azkaban? But then I don't suppose the Dementors would have any effect on someone with no heart." The next moment Harry found himself sprawled on the floor, the wind knocked out of him. Malfoy had drawn his wand and blasted him backwards with surprising speed and was now standing over him, quivering with rage, his wand levelled at Harry's chest. 

"I told you to shut up about my father," he said quietly. "I'd have thought that you, of all people. . . You've really got no idea. . ." Malfoy muttered an angry oath and turned back towards the fire. Harry scrambled to his feet, massaging his ribs. 

"What the hell's your problem?" he gasped. "This is unusually hostile, even for you." 

"My problem is arrogant, annoying bastards who'll not take a hint and shut the hell up." Malfoy's shoulders sagged and when he turned back to Harry, Harry was shocked to see tears in his eyes. "Just fuck off, Potter." Malfoy sank back into the chair and covered his eyes with a shaking hand. 

"No." Harry sat opposite Malfoy and folded his arms across his chest. "What's the matter?" 

"Like you'd care," muttered Malfoy, his hand still covering his eyes while he fought for control. Harry continued to sit, staring at the blond, and the silence between them deepened. 


	9. 9

See, I wasn't lying this time, I've updated again already! Jamie, Falafel, Serpent of Light, SheWolfe7 and Sandalino Silvio Leif, thank you for your kind words of encouragement. They're all I need in order to keep going!  
  
*  
  
Harry stared at Malfoy. Malfoy turned to stare at the fire, his hand still shielding his eyes from Harry's gaze. Neither of them was willing to break the silence. The crackling of the flames, the ticking of the clock and the soft sound of materials sliding together as Harry shifted position on the chair were the only sounds in the room, and they sounded unnaturally loud in the wake of the fight.  
  
"I thought I told you to fuck off?" Malfoy muttered a moment later. He spoke so softly that, for a moment, Harry thought his ears were playing tricks on him. Harry just shrugged, and remained seated. Malfoy shook his head and crossed his arms. His eyes were unusually bright, and his hands were still shaking.  
  
"Why are you here, Malfoy?" Harry asked softly. "If you're not a spy then there must be some reason why you're hanging around. I mean, this isn't the first time I've seen you here and I'm pretty sure I saw you at last Tuesday's DA meeting. What's going on?"  
  
"Why should I tell you anything?" Malfoy shot back. "When I last wanted to talk, you refused to listen. Why do you suddenly care now?"  
  
"Why do you want to talk to me?" Harry countered. "I mean, we've never seen eye-to-eye. Can't your Slytherin mates help you out?"  
  
"Yeah, sure, have you ever tried talking to Crabbe and Goyle about anything that wasn't related to food? And Parkinson's so irritating, she's all 'Oh, Draco, you're looking so incredibly gorgeous today!' and 'I hope that my nail varnish matches the bleach in my hair!" Anything else goes straight over her head." Harry chuckled. Malfoy shot him a withering look. "I'm glad you find it so amusing, Potter!"  
  
"Sorry." Harry stifled another wave of giggles. "But what about, I don't know, Zabini or anyone? Why do you want to talk to me?" Malfoy sighed and began inspecting his fingernails. Finally, he spoke, in rather a strained voice.  
  
"I can't talk to anyone else because they've got links with Voldemort. Zabini's about to join the Death Eaters once he comes of age in February, and it'd make his year if he could dob me in, which is what he'd do if he found out what I'm about to tell you. Which he won't, right? This information stays within this room." Malfoy's gaze met Harry's and Harry was sure, for a fleeting second, he saw panic reflected in Malfoy's steel grey eyes.  
  
"I won't tell a soul," Harry promised.  
  
"Not even Weasley and Granger?"  
  
"Not even them."  
  
"Right. Glad that's sorted." Malfoy lowered his gaze back to his fingernails and took a deep breath. "Voldemort . . . isn't exactly my favourite person at the moment. In fact, right now I'd even snog Weasley if it meant I didn't have to join the Death Eaters." Malfoy scowled. Harry raised his eyebrows, surprised at this information. Malfoy raised his eyes back to Harry's. "I want to fight them," he spat, venom dripping from every syllable. "I want to pay that bastard back for . . ." He tailed off.  
  
"For what?" Harry asked gently. Malfoy bit his lip and said nothing for a long while. .  
  
"This is hard for me, Potter," he whispered eventually. "Us Malfoys generally aren't permitted to pour out their feelings."  
  
"There's no-one here but me and I'm not going to tell anyone," Harry reassured. He smirked suddenly. "I don't think anyone would believe me anyway if I said that I saw Draco Malfoy cry."  
  
"I did not cry," Malfoy muttered sullenly.  
  
"You just had something in your eye. Sure." Harry grinned at Malfoy as the blond shot him a cold glare.  
  
"Whatever, Potter. I believe I was trying to have a serious conversation?"  
  
"Sorry. Go ahead." Malfoy nodded, and folded his arms, an odd, closed expression appearing on his face.  
  
"You know, of course, that my father was sent to Azkaban at the end of last year." Harry nodded his confirmation. "Well, in the summer holidays, he . . . came back . . ." Malfoy turned back to the fire, so that Harry couldn't see his face. "He . . .he'd . . . changed . . ."  
  
"How?" asked Harry gently. Malfoy gave a small cough that might have hidden a sob.  
  
"He'd been given the Dementor's Kiss," Malfoy whispered. "Because he failed to get the Prophecy, and he failed to get you, he . . . he was . . ." Malfoy trailed off and bit hard on his lip to stop himself from sobbing. Harry stared at the floor, completely shocked. Voldemort was evil, that was a given, but he'd do that to his own followers? He looked up at Malfoy as he fought to keep control, and saw a completely different person. He didn't see Malfoy, the snooty git who'd tried all he could to make Harry's life at Hogwarts misery; rather, he saw Draco, a boy who'd lost his father, a boy who felt just as lonely and miserable as Harry himself had felt all summer.  
  
"The Kiss? But he was right in the inner circle . . ." Malfoy's resolve crumbled completely and without thinking, Harry got out of his chair and strode over to the blond, his arms wrapping tightly around Malfoy's shoulders as the tears started to fall. "I'm so sorry, Malfoy, I didn't know . . ." he said helplessly, his insides squirming with guilt as he remembered his words about Malfoy's father earlier in the evening.  
  
They sat in silence for a while, Harry rocking Malfoy soothingly as the blond cried quietly. After a few minutes Malfoy pulled away, wiping at his eyes, and smiled awkwardly.  
  
"Thanks," he said thickly, and forced a laugh. "Tell the truth, I'm surprised you didn't tell me to bog off." Harry smiled back.  
  
"No-one should have to go through that kind of thing alone."  
  
"Thanks for listening. I feel better for telling someone. And at least you know how I'm feeling," he added. Harry nodded, his stomach tightening as he thought of Sirius. "If you want to talk, you know . . . You're quite entitled to after witnessing that little display."  
  
"I . . ." Harry shrugged. "I don't know where to begin," he admitted.  
  
"Try," suggested Malfoy.  
  
"Okay... so, short version. I'm just getting to know my godfather after he spends twelve years in Azkaban for betraying my parents to their death, which he didn't do, when he gets killed thanks to my stupidity. And then I find out he didn't actually die, but he's in another world with the rest of his family, who have allied themselves to Voldemort, who by they way I'm in a kill-or-be-killed situation with." Harry sighed heavily. "It's great being the famous Harry Potter. Dumbledore's golden boy! Gets special treatment just for having a stupid scar! Which he doesn't actually deserve because he's an attention-seeking tragic little hero who's probably made up half the stories about Voldemort because he's not got on the front page of the Daily Prophet for a while! He's mad, he's deranged, he'll bite! Quick, stop talking, he's coming this way! They think I don't hear half the things they say about me," he added angrily.  
  
"Who says that about you?"  
  
"Students. Your lot. Snape."  
  
"Wow. I never realised it was like that, you know. I always thought you enjoyed playing the celebrity," Malfoy admitted. He glanced at the books lining the walls. "So that's why you're studying Sipstrassi? It has something to do with Black?" Harry nodded. "I could help you there. We've got thousands of books in the library at home, stuff you can't get anywhere anymore. I could bring some back after the Christmas holidays if you want."  
  
"Why would you do that for me?" Harry asked, surprised yet touched by the offer. Malfoy smiled.  
  
"We're on the same side now, aren't we? And if my helping you in any way helps bring about the downfall of Voldemort, then I'm more than willing." He stuck out his hand. "I think we should start again, don't you? Hi, I'm Draco Malfoy, I'm sixteen and I'm an angry little bastard hell-bent on revenge." Harry laughed and shook Draco's hand.  
  
"I'm Harry Potter, I'm also sixteen, and I'll join you on the revenge thing." He released Draco's hand, and started to gather up his things. "I'd better go, Ron and Hermione will be sending out a search party soon."  
  
"Just one more thing . . . Harry," Draco added as Harry moved towards the door.  
  
"Not a word to anyone, I know," Harry smiled. "So you'll still be a slimy Slytherin git in public but when we're alone I'm allowed to be civil?"  
  
"Something like that," Draco admitted. "So I'll see you in Potions tomorrow then, you bastard!"  
  
"See you tomorrow, you scumbag!" Harry laughed, as he left the room. 


	10. 10

It has been a while and I do apologise. I've had a major case of writers block yet again. Thanks to SiLvErFaTeD, Blackrose, SheWolfe7, Velven (guess I didn't update quickly enough to get a cookie? ^_^) sak, Jamie, Serpent of Light and Falafal for being patient. I know I always say this, but I promise to try and not leave it so long in future! 

Just a warning, things get darker and downright weirder from now on. Just so's you're warned ^_^

Additional disclaimer: I should mention that the book behind the whole Sirius-being-alive portion of this fic is David Gemmell's excellent _Knights of Dark Renown_. If you're stuck for something to do while waiting for me to update, look it up. You won't be disappointed.  

*__

_Harry was floating free of his body, soaring against the night sky. He could see Hogwarts below him, picturesque in the moonlight, bathed in an aura of indefinite colours,  while above him the stars shone stark and clear, robbed of the twinkling qualities that the Earth's atmosphere and human romanticism gave them. This was freedom, this was pure joy. Voldemort, Sirius, Bloodstones, NEWTs, Remedial Potions, Snape, Draco, Dumbledore – none of it mattered now. He didn't know how he had come to be here, but he didn't care. The world around him was so beautiful, he just wanted to stay here and fly forever. _

_He sped higher, so high that he could not even see Hogwarts anymore. All around him, the colours of the Universe flashed – green, blue, yellow, black, white, purple, all flowing together, in harmony with each other. Just beyond vision, silver and gold wove their way through the Universe. Harry laughed and wanted to chase the silver and gold, but something stopped him. The red, which until now had blended smoothly with the other colours, was swelling. _

_He could feel a presence near him and spun, groping instinctively for his wand but realising that it was back with his body, at Hogwarts. He could see nothing and his eyes narrowed as he scanned the horizon. He could feel something there, something malevolent, something so evil that just to be near it was to be tainted. _

_Over there. A spark in the south-west, like a shooting star but headed this way. Harry had felt fear before, but never anything like the soul-destroying terror that engulfed him now. Something was coming, something bad, and he was powerless to stop it. _

_And suddenly, the presence was behind him once more. Wheeling around, he faced a man dressed as a Knight, whose porcelain features were framed by long, black hair. The Knight would have been handsome, were it not for his eyes. They were the crimson colour of blood, and their gaze promised both eternity and death. _

_"Do not fear me, child," the Knight was saying. "I am here on a crusade, and one such as you will not be troubled by me." _

_"What do you mean one such as me?" demanded Harry. The Knight ignored him, staring down at the castle. _

_"He seeks to thwart us," stated the Knight softly. "But our crusade is a righteous one, and the world will benefit from our victory. He will not stand long." The Knight turned back to Harry. "You are the Potter boy. Your powers must be great indeed, for there are few who can fly the Colours. Will you aid us in our crusade?" _

_"No," hissed Harry. "I'll have no part of your evil." The Knight laughed. _

_"Evil? My dear boy, that is but a childish notion. By what right do you say that I am evil? You do not know me. My appearance is less than orthodox, I grant you, but have I given you any cause to call me so? Would you still call me evil if I looked like this?" The Knight waved a hand, and for an instance his face took on a form he knew well. Harry gasped and drew back. _

_"Sirius?" The Knight laughed. _

_"Sirius? No, I am not he. Brother Sirius has only recently returned; he will have no part in this Crusade for a while yet. I am Cepheus. I am here on a very important mission. You cannot see the truth; you are blinded by your so-called purity, and it is that which will lead to your eventual destruction.  The world is slowly being destroyed, and my Brothers and I have been called to restore the true harmony of the world."_

_"You have been called by evil, and for that I want nothing more to do with you." Harry turned to fly back to Hogwarts, but suddenly couldn't move. Fear gripped him once more as the Knight advanced. _

_"You insolent pup, you know nothing! Believe me, my boy, you will learn the truth soon enough, and then you will beg to be allowed to join us! Provided we haven't already killed you, of course." Cepheus smiled a cold, humourless smile, and lazily waved a hand at Harry. A ball of red flame struck Harry in the chest; he screamed as his skin started to blister and burn; and all of a sudden he was falling. Hogwarts was looming up towards him, he wasn't going to be able to stop, he was going to hit . . . _

Harry woke with a yell, his hands shielding his eyes. It took him a moment to realise that he was safe in his dorm at Hogwarts, and there were no evil maraudering knights after him. The dream had seemed so real, though, and the pain . . . 

At that moment, pain flared in his chest and he doubled over in agony. It was then he realised that he was lying on the floor, not in his bed. _Must have hit something when I fell,_ he mused. 

"'Smatter?" murmured Ron from the next bed. Harry heard Ron's bed creak as the redhead sat up, and he scrambled to the floor. 

"Nothing much. Weird dream," replied Harry, cursing the fact that his voice still held a note of terror in it. He couldn't remember a dream ever having terrified him so much. The terror obviously got through to Ron because the next moment, Ron was at his side. 

"What was it?" he asked. Harry shook his head. 

"I don't know, some strange shit. I was flying, and then there was this Knight. He had eyes of blood. I don't know, it's all going a bit hazy . . ." Harry took a step towards the wash basin and stumbled, suddenly dizzy. "I think I need to sit down for a moment. Ron, help me out here. I feel . . . weird . . ." Ron nodded and put his arm around Harry, leading him to the bed. Harry sank down onto the mattress gratefully, leaning back and closing his eyes. "Cheers." 

"Harry!" Harry jumped, startled at the note of alarm in Ron's voice, and sat up again. 

"What's up?" 

"Harry . . . your chest . . . Harry, mate, what the fuck . . ?" Harry glanced down and noticed that a dark mark was spreading across the front of his pyjama top. His vision was starting to go fuzzy again, as he carefully unbuttoned his shirt. The skin was raw, blackened and oozing blood. He could hear Ron shouting, and felt gentle hands lifting him, but beyond that he knew no more as he gently slipped into darkness. 


	11. 11

Oh, bugger! It has been a while, hasn't it? I sincerely apologise for the lack of updates, stuff has been going on in my private life that have made it impossible to for me to get in the mood to read, let alone write. But things should be sorted now, hopefully. Don't despair, I'll not be giving up on this fic until it's well and truly finished, I love it too damn much! And I've also got an idea for a sequel. So don't despair, you'll be hearing lots more from me yet!

Thanks to my faithful reviewers: SiLvErFaTeD, Velven, syntaxandgramma, Names are for little men!!!, Falafel, Jamie, Pegasus and V-Gin. Thank you so much for your patience. You must be getting tired of my excuses by now!

And a HUGE thank you to my darling Cory, who gave me enough of a kick up the arse to get this chapter rolling.

Harry heard a mumble of voices as he slowly regained consciousness. His head appeared to be full of fog, his chest was a searing agony, and he kept his eyes closed while he tried to make sense of what had happened. He'd been . . . flying, he supposed, and there had been that man, and he'd said . . . His chest spasmed with pain again and he groaned, his eyes flaring open.

The babble of voices stopped, and a figure bent over him. Harry could just make out the blurred features of Ron and he reached for his glasses.

"Blimey, mate . . . what happened?" asked Ron hoarsely.

"I . . . I'm not sure . . ." Harry mumbled, rubbing his scar, which was throbbing painfully. "I mean, I was asleep, and then I was . . . I was flying, right up near the stars. I don't know, it goes a bit hazy after that."

"Try to remember, Harry." Harry looked around at the Headmaster, who was standing by the door and looking worried. That wasn't a good sign. "It could be important." Harry fell silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before telling Dumbledore all that he could remember.

"…And that man… Cepheus, I think he said his name was, he said that Sirius wasn't ready yet, or something. Then he shot something at me. That's all I can remember."

"Do you have any idea how you came to be flying the colours?" asked Dumbledore softly. Harry shrugged.

"No idea. That knight said that not many people can do it." 

"Indeed they can't." Dumbledore looked at Harry over steepled fingers, his expression thoughtful. "If my memory serves me correctly, this is not the first time you've had an out-of-body experience, is it?" Harry shook his head.

"No, the last time I saw Voldemort torturing someone and ended up on the street. I thought that it might have something to do with, you know, our connection?"

"It may be that your connection with Voldemort has awakened a talent you did not know you possessed." Dumbledore continued to stare at Harry, who fidgeted, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under such intense scrutiny. He stayed silent, trying to think straight.

"I think we should let our young Mr Potter get some rest," Dumbledore said firmly after a moment. Everyone consented, as Harry was looking pale and wan, throwing him one last worried look as they left. Harry settled back into his pillows, the Headmaster's sudden departure unsettling him slightly. A shuffling sound came from the corner as the door closed and he looked over.

"How did you know I was here?" he asked the shadow.

"Where else would you be?" drawled the shadow, more commonly known as Draco Malfoy, stepping forwards. "Besides, I went up to the Tower, for reasons unknown, and the Fat Lady said something along the lines of 'Screaming . . .Blood. . . Harry. . . Oh, that poor boy!' It didn't take much to work out you'd been getting in some sort of trouble."

"Unknown reasons, hey?" Harry asked.

"I wanted to talk some more," Draco said, sitting on the edge of Harry's bed. "That is if you wouldn't mind?"

"I'm not going anywhere" Harry said, smiling slightly. Draco smiled back.

"Well I was thinking about my father. I'm always thinking about it these days . . ." Draco trailed off and rubbed his temples. "And I just . . . well . . . he did it. I didn't think he could do that to his own followers, you know? I thought he would spring dad out of Azkaban and everything would be fine. I would have a nice, normal Death Eater family and spend the rest of my life hating you"

"I always ruin everything" he said, sighing as he shot Draco a wry grin.

"Join the club" Draco sighed.

"I'm president." Both boys sat in silence for a moment, Harry's thoughts still fuzzy and confused after the night before. He had the distinct feeling that Dumbledore was hiding something from him, yet again – surely the old fool had learned by now that keeping secrets did more harm than good? Harry shook his head. He trusted Dumbledore, he respected the old man more than anyone else – so why did he have the distinct feeling that he was up to no good?

"I got you a book to read, by the way," Draco said, breaking the silence. "I thought it might be useful." He handed Harry a well-worn paperback.

"A novel?" Harry asked, raising one eyebrow slightly. "A Muggle novel at that. What would Draco Malfoy be doing with a Muggle novel?" Draco shrugged.

"Draco Malfoy has become quite a collector of Muggle literature. Quite against his will, of course. Mother had some books that one of her relatives had lent her, and somehow they managed to avoid being incinerated by my father. I found them one day, and just . . . couldn't bring myself to throw them out, for some reason. Call it stupidity or insatiable curiosity, or whatever. This one's quite good." Harry turned the book over and looked at the title.

"Bloodstone?"

"Like I said, I thought it might be useful." Draco got up and stretched, and turned towards the door. "I've got to be getting back. Oh, and by the way, if you ever scare me like that again I'll hex you into the middle of next week, and I know some pretty awful ones, believe me."

"That doesn't surprise me in the slightest," Harry shot back, grinning as Draco left the room. They'd come on a lot in the last couple of days – Harry's dream, or vision, or whatever it was, had come three days after the event in the Room of Requirement. In classes and around the school, of course, they were as hostile as ever, so that people wouldn't talk, but in private Harry saw a Draco Malfoy who was witty and amusing, a Draco Malfoy who was still hurting at his father's fate and confused at the direction his life had taken since then. . . and a Draco Malfoy who was sexy as hell.

That revelation hadn't been much of a surprise. He'd noticed that before, of course, Draco was one of the more highly sought-after bachelors in the school, despite the rumours that he was betrothed to Pansy Parkinson, but now Draco seemed to have another quality about him. Before he'd been attractive in the way that an exquisitely-carved statue was attractive, yet cold and distant, but now he seemed more human, more real, more _desirable_.

Harry was jolted out of these thoughts by a knock on the door. The door opened and Professor Lupin entered, looking almost as worried as Dumbledore had. It was almost full moon, and he was looking tired and drawn.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" he asked gently.

"Confused." Lupin shot him a wry smile.

"I'm not surprised. Dumbledore's worried, Harry, extremely worried, and that's never a good sign. You've no idea how it happened at all?" Harry shrugged, indicating that he couldn't remember a thing. Lupin sighed and sat down heavily on the edge of Harry's bed. "Damn. I was hoping you'd be able to do it again."

"What for?" asked Harry curiously. Lupin shot him a worried look and leaned forwards, lowering his voice so that Madam Pomfrey wouldn't be able to hear him from her office.

"Tomorrow's Halloween. Do you know what they used to say about Halloween?" Harry nodded.

"I heard Piers telling Dudley one night, he said his mum reckoned it was the night when the veil between worlds. . ." Harry trailed off as the implication of these words hit him with a force, leaving him slightly breathless. Lupin nodded.

"When the veil between this world and others is thinnest and therefore it's easier for things to pass between worlds. In fact, it's one of two nights, the other being the night between April 30th and May 1st. It used to be thought that Halloween was the night when those who had passed over in the last year walked among us again. There's a basis of truth in that, and. . ." Lupin lowered his voice further. "I wanted to take advantage of tomorrow night to try and contact Sirius." Harry's chest contracted and he felt as though he could hardly breathe. He was filled with the need to see Sirius again, a need so strong that he felt as though his heart would burst under the emotion.

"I'll help," he blurted. Lupin sighed heavily.

"It'll be dangerous, Harry, doubly so if you can't find the colours again. I don't have any right to ask you to do it, and if Dumbledore finds out what we're up to. . ."

"He probably already knows," said Harry darkly. "He seems to know everything." Lupin chuckled.

"All right then, but if I get you killed or maimed then Madam Pomfrey will tan my hide!" Harry chuckled too.

"I want to do it," he stated. "I. . . I want him back. I can't let him join with those Knights, they're not right. And I can't let you go on your own, you're. . . well, you're the only link I have left to my parents." He smiled. "I've still got a lot of questions left and I can't let you get yourself killed before you answer them!" Lupin laughed and ruffled Harry's hair.

"That was an answer worthy of James," he said proudly. "Now I'd better let you get some rest or Madam Pomfrey will keep you here for eternity and a day to recuperate. Come to my office at lunch and we'll work something out, okay?" He flashed a tired smile at Harry and left the room. No sooner was he out of the door than Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office and bustled over to Harry's bed.

"I'm allowed my patient back now, am I?" she tutted. "I don't know, how am I supposed to treat you with half the school traipsing in and out all the time?" She placed some beakers of potion on Harry's bedside table, handing one to him. "Drink this. It'll help with the burns. And, provided you _rest _tonight, you can go back to school tomorrow. And try not to do anything dangerous in future, please, I've got enough on my hands without having to patch you up all the time!"

Harry settled back into his pillows, letting her tirade wash over him. He removed his glasses and closed his eyes, and completely failed to get to sleep. His heart and mind were too full of Sirius, and the prospect of seeing him again was too exciting. It would be dangerous, Lupin had said, but Harry didn't care how dangerous it was.

Anything would be worth the chance to get his godfather back.


End file.
